


A Wandering Minstrel I

by Tamuril_Elensar



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Lost children, Singing, The Two Towers, bard character, lead becomes a parent by accident, more oc's to add later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22477465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamuril_Elensar/pseuds/Tamuril_Elensar
Summary: It was a good, honest life Sera lived. But war is coming, and it does not discriminate from warrior to bard. Sometimes the best stories to tell are the ones we create ourselves.
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

It was growing late into the evening when Sera began her third set of tunes, a much slower piece to match the mood of the tavern. The generally lively room was easing to a gentle lull, as most of the earlier patrons started their returns to their homes. Those who remained had the luxury of only climbing a set of stairs to theirs beds and so had all the time to leave, or were so deep in their cups they'd forgotten to go home. The air was still hot from so many bodies heaving in and out it kept the frigid night air out, not that Sera minded or cared. She was still in her corner near the great hearth picking the string of her lute, undisturbed and quite content. The tune she played was no true song, just her fingers strumming idly across the string as they had done a thousand times before. No one paid her any mind and thankfully didn't heckle. Once her hand could take no more and started cramping Sera gave a small yet still elaborate final stroke and finished for the night, no applause, no cheers. Just the promise of a bowl of broth and bread at the bar waiting for her. She packed up her kit and made her way over to the bar, were the master of the inn was at work cleaning mugs and tankards with one of the bar hands. 

"Here. I'm afraid there was not much left Miss Sera. Locals were hungry tonight." Barliman said with a tired smile. 

True the portion was smaller than expected and the bread had generous heaping of butter to no doubt compensate for the slight staleness, but food was food and not to be turned away from a traveling bard. “Just add a hot cup of water and I’ll consider this a mighty feast.” She told him and took a seat with glee. Her throat was horse with use and she was famished. Barliman indicated for the bar hand to fetch her requested drink while he went back to cleaning.

Sera got stuck into the broth quickly and without apology, taking spoonful after spoonful with loud slurps and setting the bread crust into the bowl to soak up the broth. It was easy to please a woman like herself with simple delights. The young bar hand returned with the cup and set it in front of her, steam rising up over the brim. Sera took large bite out of her bread and put the food aside to make her tea. She took out the small brown packet of herbs from one of her back pockets, noting that she needed to refill it soon, and tapped out a pinch of the contents into the cup. It would take a few minutes for the herbs to take effect so she went back to eating. As she did, two dwarf traders got up and trudged up the stairs and another local, the stable master if Sera remembered, was being dragged out the door by a young lad who shook his head the entire time. 

“I still don’t know just what you put in that cup, but if it keeps you singing so be it.” Barliman eyed the brewing tea suspiciously.

Sera had to laugh. Surely the man had seen stranger things in his profession. “When one’s living relies so heavily on their voice, you find tricks to maintain it however strange.” She told him with a wave her spoon. “Dried herbs and flower seeds are hardly worth splitting hairs over.”

“Seems odd to me all the same. But enough of that.” Barliman folded his dirty dish cloth into his apron. “You on the road again tomorrow still?”

“Aye. Unless bad weather hinders me.” 

Barliman “You should consider a horse. Faster and safer when there’s bandits on the roads.”

“It’s not bandits you need be wary of.” Came a slurred response from the other end of the bar. Sera and Barliman turned to the man who spoke hunched over the counter, his coat had seen better days and his face looked haggard from more than just drink. He went on now that he had their attention. “Talk has been going ‘round off monsters hunting the wilds of Dunland. Great big wolves and rats that know no fear, and trolls picking off cattle.”

But Barliman was having none of it. “You’re off your rocker. Trolls? Pft!” 

“Scoff all you want. I’ve seen shadows moving out there, waiting …. It’s not natural. None of it.”

“The last time there was talk of trolls this close to the South Downs it was over sixty years ago. Nothing since.” Barliman countered. His face was slowly turning white with discomfort. 

“But the wolves have been seen as far as Buckland before.” The man pointed a finger at the inn keeper. 

“Enough. It’s too late to be debating folktales and you’ve had enough.”

Sera simply sat silent in her seat and let the two men argue back and forth but the stranger was not going to let that happen. 

"You're a traveler as well. What have you heard on the road?" The man asked her. For a moment Sera was quiet as she regarded the stranger, unsure how to answer him. Luckily, Barliman answered for her. 

"Leave the woman be."

Sera finished the last of her broth quickly and pushed the now empty bowl aside to enjoy her tea. The now lukewarm drink soothed her tired throat and warmed her fingers.  
While the stranger’s tale seemed like drunk ramblings, there may have been a hint of truth to his story. The last two towns she had traveled from both had the odd talk of strange goings on and more and more people were on edge, eying outsiders with a wary eye. Strange tales were nothing new to Sera, the more isolated a settlement was the more elaborate their folk tales were due to lack of regular news. But these dark whispers uttered over crowed tables with fearful voices were growing. While she contemplated this, Barliman finally convinced the stranger to pay up and go to bed to sleep off his tale. The younger of the bar hands, a girl nicknamed Jells, came up alongside Sera.

“Surprised he’s acting like nothing’s wrong.” She said offhandedly. 

Sera thumbed the rim of her cup. “Mmm? What do you mean?” 

“Everyone’s been talking ab… about … mm.” The girl, who was usually so eager to chat, went quiet and ducked her head down. Sera gently touched her arm out of concern and looked around to see what had caused her silence. A newcomer had arrived, cloaked from head to toe and carrying only a leather rucksack and an impressive sword on his hip. He passed by the counted and dropped a small purse onto it before heading straight for the stairs. Jells visibly flinched when he passed them, while Barliman just took the money off the counter and acted indifferent to his latest lodger.

“You alright there?” Sera asked the young girl once the thudding of the stranger’s boots faded up the stairs. Jells nodded and took a deep breath.

“Aye, I’m right now.” She said. “I thought he wouldn’t be back until the winter. Did Barliman know about this?”

“You’re not fond of Rangers, I take it.” 

Jell blinked at the bard. “Well … I’m only ever seen him.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “But he gives me the willies something shocking. How did you know he was a Ranger?”

Sera took a long sip of tea before answering. “Call it my razor-sharp intuition. I’ve seen so many people it becomes easy to spot tiny little giveaway. Rangers for example all do the same thing which he just did.”

“What’s that?”

“He watched where every single person was before he came in.” Jells was both awed and unsettled. Sera gave her a reassuring grin. “But that’s just my own take on it. Anyway, does this Ranger have a name?”

“No one knows his actual name. I’ve only heard what my Da and others refer to him as. Strider … or something.”

_______________

The weather was favorable to her the next morning, clear skies with just the barest glimpses of clouds. Sera decided on a whim to delay her departure until the later morning and take her time. For a single bed in a humble inn, the covers felt delectable against her wriggling toes and Sera let herself stretch out like a cat in the sun. It came time for her to get up and on the road, but not before one last roll about. It helped to remember the feeling of a bed when she had only the forest floor or the open grass planes to sleep on. She splashed her face with some water and brushed her bed hair out with damp fingers, tying it back with her headscarf. She also swapped her shirt for a plainer travel one, as she saved only her brightest and exotic looking outfits for performances. Though the rough spun blue of the travel shirt still made a bold enough statement and was easy to wear when on the road. When it is spent mostly on the roads, there is little need for a lot, so Sera was packed and ready within minutes. After slipping her lute into its own separate pack, she hiked both her pack and lute onto her back and headed out to the landing. Neither Barliman or Jells were working at the bar that morning but Barliman’s son Timothy was setting up for the day.

Standing at the bar was that Ranger. Even in daylight, he kept his hood up. Sera decided it best to be quick.

“My regards to your father Timothy.” She called across the room on her way to the door. Timothy just raised a hand to the bard, but Sera found her gaze being drawn the Ranger, who stared right back at her. The half of his face that she could see was oddly unremarkable, no different from any other passing stranger, and yet at the same he did not …. somehow.

A trick of the eye, it was. That’s how the Rangers blended in.

It was none of Sera’s business so she raced through the door and onto the busy street. The morning market was in full bloom and put Sera in so much of a good mood, she bought a bag of dried fruits and meats for the road on her way to the main gate. The old gate keeper was seated outside his slim watch tower with a perpetual scowl at everyone passing by. Sera was sure that even when he was happy his face was like that. 

"Far winds minstrel." He called out to her, hand raised haphazardly, "Keep to them roads and out of them elf forests. There's talk of strange folk abroad."

Sera snorted loudly. "I'll keep that in mind sir." She waved goodbye and stepped out of the gates. The crossroads were just outside Bree by half a mile with the Great East Road meeting the Greenway. Sera chose the Greenway this time for she had traveled that way for some time. The road was well used by larger trade parties and cut across open land more than forest. Sera opened the newly bought back of goods and pulled out a large piece of dried pear and bit off a chunk, savoring the refreshing sweet tang hitting the tip of her tongue. An idea for a new song started simmering in her mind and by the time she reached Greenway she had a whole verse composed which promptly scrapped. A new idea took its place though and Sera smile as she took another bite. 

"And we dance, dance, dance,  
In a circle, in a square.  
Dance, dance, dance,  
Raise your partner in the air."

The bard was pleased with this idea and almost skipped along the road southward to the merry old tune.

"Swing, swing, swing, till you fall about exhausted.  
And then sing until the sunrise,  
Where the valley meets the glen."


	2. Chapter 2

The past year had been kind to Sera with little trouble on the road and plenty of work. But good and bad fortune both come in equal measure for those who lived by it. Once thriving villages had dwindled into near squalor, and where once a bard would be a welcome reprieve, Sera was barely acknowledged when she performed. Children still flocked to hear stories if only to pretend they were part of them and far from their home. A terrible shadow had reached the west and was slowly polluting the land and people. When she made it to the town Quarry Hill, the last town before the Greenway led into the Gap of Rohan, the black wood walls were a sight for sore eyes. The people were hardy and blunt but not a volatile sort. After Sera was cleared at the gates she headed straight for the tanners to see an old acquaintance.

"Hello? Adean?" She called as she poked her head through the skins hanging in the shop.

"Whose asking?" A gruff voice called back. An older man stepped out from the back wiping his brow on a rag, "Well bugger me." He said with a half surprised, half expected look on his face. "Here be the wandering minstrel from far away."

"Nice to see you too Adean." Sera stuck out her hand which the man shook, nearly taking her arm off. "How long has been? Five years?"

"Six." Adean answered. "You've barely aged a damn day. How?"

"Water from the springs of the Misty Mountains." Sera teased. "That and the fresh air does wonders for the skin."

Adean laughed. "I'll take your word. Sit. I am almost done with this, then we will drink."

Sera was more than happy to wait if it meant resting her feet and sat outside the shop front on a bench, her pack and lute at her feet. She watched the people of Quarry Hill go about with their work. The main income was once stones and other minerals from the quarry just beyond the hill. When the people first began digging they had established the town on top of the quarry but in time the expanded and it was no longer stable so they rebuilt elsewhere and used the black stone to fortify the town. In time work shifted to cattle and livestock when the dwarves left the Misty Mountains. The town was built sturdy with sturdy people, but something felt off with them.

“Odd.” Sera muttered to herself.

True to his word, Adean was done in no time and ushered her into the back of his shop. The house behind it was around long before the shop, or so Adean's father had bragged. It was far too spacious for a bachelor but Adean managed it very well. Sera made herself comfortable by placing her belongings at the foot of the staircase and seating herself at the large table, as she did the first time Adean first invited her into his home.

"Can't say this is my best drop, but considering the times." He poured them a tankard each of mead, "It will do."

"Considering the times? You sound like you've been at war." Sera took a sip. He was right, the mead was far from good, too hard or her tastes. "Unless I missed the declaration."

Adean made a low, rumbling sound in his in his chest which Sera interpreted as his version of a sigh. "Aye. At war indeed." He muttered. "At war with ghosts more like it."

"Work been good for you?" Sera asked.

"As well as it can be. The is still a need for my services so there is work. Can't complain." He took a long swig of the disappointing mead. Not to be a rude guest, Sera mirrored him and stomached the drink. "May have another apprentice soon so that's good news."

"Oh really? Who."

"Remember Margret's little boy? Him."

Sera though back on it. "He'd be fourteen now, wouldn't he?"

The man gave his large red beard a scratch and nodded. "Poor lad."

"How so?"

"He was learning how to manage the herds with his father, until Wilhem vanished. Him and three others have just up and disappeared the last month. Not traces, no leads nothing." The was a harsh, sharp quip to his voice that worried Sera. Adean was tough man by nature, but he was not so easily scared. 

She took another sip. "Vanished, you say." 

"Yes. Wilhem was first. He was out late fixing a fence on his land, didn't realize until morning he was gone. The others were out hunting stray wolves that had been spotted prowling the outskirts." Adean shook his head. "On top of that, those bastards up in the mountain are in a frenzy."

Now Sera knew why the whole town was on edge. The Men of the Mountains, or the Wild Men as they were less affectionately known as, were a harder people, brash and savage in comparison to most with a tendency to hate all others. Their stories were cautionary tales, meant to frighten children and wandering travelers, like herself

"They haven't ... attacked, have they?" 

"No, but by the gods, you'd think they had. Everyone is so bloody tense they can't take a piss. We're waiting for them though." Adean finished his tankard first, slamming back on the table. "But enough of this grim talk, there too much of it these days." He declared in that booming voice of his. "Tell me about you Sera. Tell me happy tidings."

Sera had to laugh. "That sick of grim news you'd look forward to my dull talk of the east?"

"You have no bloody idea." 

"Well this will cheer you up. I have need of your skills." She said. "My lute bag is looking worse for wear. I was hoping you replace the lining."

Adean shook his head. "You abuse my generosity, you know that?" 

"I intend to pay you, you know." Sera shot back, "And wasn't you who said I was always welcomed to your services?"

"No. That was my father. And the old man made me promise to be good to you."

That he did. 

"He was a sweet man whom I found to be charming." 

"And he swore till the end of his days you were the image of his first love. That is the only reason he liked you."

Sera made an aghast expression. "And here I thought he liked my music."

Adean gave a loud huff of laughter. 

That night saw Sera play in the Main Hall of the town late into the evening. As Adean had so apply described it, the townsfolk were sullen and grey as a funeral procession. It saddened the bard, more so when the Master of Quarry Hill dropped a coin purse in her lap and called upon her to make his people at the very least smile. And so, Sera did. Her fingers danced across the strings in an impressive flurry, the low contralto of her voice rising over and under the melody. The songs weaved tales of magic and brave men from long ago, things that would make the people forget for a while their sorrows.

But later, in the dead of night when the lights in the town had gone out and Sera had pulled the blankets aside to climb into the guest bed, a hollow scream filled the air. A distant, high pitched noise that made Sera freeze. It sounded think a woman’s wail at first, but dragged out into an unearthly screech that couldn’t even be an animal’s.

The tips on her ears began to itch as Sera listened to the sound fade into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

~A few months later~

The sky was completely covered by grey clouds from East to West but no immediate signs of rain, a blessing in a small way, though Sera still felt the onset of a gloomy day and resolved herself to be as positive as she could, slinging her pack high on her shoulders and tightening the laces around her boots. But there was just an oppressive weight in the air, slowly settling over the woman the further into the Gap she got. It had been a fitful night of sleep for her and when she woke at sunrise the worrisome dreams she had weighed heave on her mind, partly because she could only recall half of them, leaving her with a vague if but nagging feeling in the backing mind, like remembering something after a long time. Sera huffed and kept shaking herself all day to be rid of the feeling. It was the last thing she needed before a full day's hike through the Gap. It dawned on her when she started to smell the burning in the air that something was terribly off and that perhaps she had made poor choice in coming this way. 

There was evil here, she may not see yet but Sera could feel the anticipation of danger, and reasoning on the better side of precaution slipped her hand slowly around her side and into her sash, her fingers edging along the hilt of a dagger. 

It was a tense journey that lasted hours, Sera was on edge the whole time and didn't dare to stop for anything. No birds sang, no critters chirped, all that filled the void was the occasional groaning tree. Black smoke rose over the canopy from something in the North and Sera swore she could now taste metal in the air. Finally, a noise broke through the tension and made Sera pull out her dagger. Whatever it was shrilled wildly, accompanied by a rhythmic thudding. Wood cracked and the shrill rang out once more. Sera glanced in every direction until she saw movement just beyond the trees.

It was a spooked horse, stamping and huffing by a fallen tree. Sera immediately jumped into action and put her weapon away.

"Easy. Easy!" She called to the animal as it tried to rear up in retaliation. The closer she got, the more Sera saw the problem. Parts of what looked to be a wagon strapped to the horse's back had become lodged in between the branches and the horse's attempts to run away had only made it worse. If it reared up again it was going to pull itself to the side and onto its back. Sera approached the horse slowly, making sure the animal saw her and the little threat she posed.

"Here now, it's alright. It's alright." She cooed. The horse still huffed haughtily and fixed its panicked eyes on her. "What happened to you?" Carefully, Sera stuck out a hand for the horse to sniff, or more accurately snort all over her. For now, the beast had stopped pulling and allowed Sera close enough to assess the best way to free the horse. Once she was sure the horse was calm enough and would not try and bolt, Sera inched around its side and got to work untacking the broken harness. The leather was thick and Sera found it hard to maneuver as they were pulled so tight. Slowly the clasps came undone and all that was left was to untangle the long reigns caught in the wood, the ends of which were frayed like they were torn

"Where on earth did you come from?"

There was no reason for this horse to be here. Its legs were thick for farm work and its coat was shaggy for warmth. Poor think must be very far from home and made its discomfort known. Sera tried to remember the best method to calm a horse without getting a kick to the ribs, resulting in her taking the reins and walking the horse in a circle, which proved successful. The horse's ears came forward and when she patted it's neck the second time it didn't flinch. Sera sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"

They were miles from the nearest town or settlement and she had no idea which direction the horse had come from, so essentially, they were stuck together.

"Well Barliman, you always said I should get a horse." Sera said out loud with a resigned shrug. "Not how I imagined it to happen."

A bird crocked in the thick of the trees, causing the horse to snap it's head towards the noise. The motion tugged Sera a long and half stumbled onto the forest floor.

"Woah! Easy big fella." Sera gave the reigns a light yank. "I'm only so strong." She twisted the end of the reign around her wrist and went back to inspecting the wagon's remains. There was smears of blood on the inside and stuck in the side was an arrow. Sera went to pull it out but stopped herself when she saw the make of it, black metal with shredded crow's feathers. 

An Orc arrow.

Sera nearly jumped backwards. 

An Orc attack? Here? There were no Orcs at this end of the Misty Mountains, only Goblins and the Wild men. Sera was now just as nervous as the horse. Very carefully, Sera fixed the blanket on the beast's back, using a piece of the harness to keep the fabric on as a makeshift saddle. Every few seconds she peaked over her shoulder, hyper aware of anything that moved. The horse was not that tall but getting herself onto it's back with a full pack and a heavy instrument acting as a counter weight, but the horse was patient enough while Sera gracelessly settled herself. She tied together the reigns to shorten them, making it easier to steer. The horse was clearly no accustomed to being ridden before as it took Sera a good couple of kicks and yanks on the reigns to get the animal moving. 

"Come on. Come on now. That's it." Sera get the horse up to a steady trot.

She had to get them out of the woods and find a settlement soon. If Orcs were early on the attack then being out on the road was the worst thing to be. 

Now Sera had an extra mouth to worry for, and no clue what to do about it.

What next?

~*~

They were coming. 

The watchmen had sent word from the outskirts, sounding the bell. The black hordes were pouring in over the horizon. Everyone was sent into a panic, grabbing at anything that could be carried with them, food, water, livestock, with only a few items of sentiment thrown in. 

Eothain was trying to stop his little sister from trying to take every straw doll of hers with them, there were more important things to worry about. 

"But I can't leave them. The bad men will get them." Freda whined as she clutched them to her like they were her children.

"They won't." Eothain wrapped the small half of bread in a cheesecloth and shoved it into the sack. "Now grab the water." 

Freda let go of all but one of the doll as she found the water skin and passed it to him. 

"Eothain!"

That was Mama. He grabbed Freda's hand and the two children ran outside. Old Lera and her niece rushed past with their prize goat, kicking chickens out of their way. Eothain saw their mother with the family's horse on the other side of the yard. She held out her hand, urging them to move faster. "Eothain. Take your sister." Eothain gripped the sides of Garulf's saddle as his mother helped him up. "You'll go faster with just two."

"But Papa says Eothain must not ride Garulf. He's too big for him." Freda shook her head, her little hands gripping the sack of provisions tightly.

"I know. I know love." Mama took her face in her hands. "But this is the best thing for you." She picked up Freda and sat her in front of Éothain. The saddle was so large it sat both the children comfortably with room to spare.

"Listen to me." Mama clutched Eothain's arm. He had never seen her look so scared before. "Go south. Follow the path to the mountains. You must ride to Edoras and raise the alarm. Do you understand?"

"Yes Mama." 

"Promise me."

Eothain nodded. He had to strong, like Papa. But Freda began to cry.

"You're not coming Mama?" She shook in Eothain's arms. "But we don't ... No no no no!"

The screaming began. 

Eothain looked over his shoulder and saw the horde. Their torches blazing and swords pointed up to the grey sky. The first of them had reached the edge of the village.

"Freda. Please, don't worry." 

"I don't want leave. I don't want to go!" The little girl was sobbing, reaching for her mother. 

"I will find you there, my loves." Mama kissed her hands, the tears now falling down her cheeks. "Now, quickly!" 

Eothain swallowed his fear and snapped Garulf's reigns. The horse surged forward, away from their mother. Freda couldn't stop crying and curled herself into a ball. Eothain remembered what Papa had taught him, keep heels in, the reigns taunt and move with the horse. All around them the rest of the villagers scramble to get further away as the smell of smoke filled the air with the war cries of the black horde growing louder and wilder. Eothain had to shut it all out, he had a promise to keep. He steered Garulf away from the masses towards where his mother had said. Southwards wand towards the mountains. Getting Garulf uphill proved tricky as he nearly slid backward out of the saddle. Freda held onto the pommel for dear life.

"We need to go back." She said. "We can't leave Mama and Papa."

"Didn't you hear her Freda? She made us promise to go to Edoras."

"I don't care! I want Mama!" 

Eothain wanted that too, but he couldn't let that dissuade him from what he must do. He glanced back over his shoulder at the burning remains of the village, the black horde overrunning it like a swarm of ants, scattering their people to the for winds. Freda continue to cry, shedding tears for both of them. 

Eothain would not cry, he swore it to himself. He nudged Garulf harder, pressing him into a gallop

The sky behind then grew black as the smoke of yet another village reach up and out, spreading itself even further. It chased the children who held on to the saddle for dear as the large horse ran and ran, gaining more and more speed as they raced into the open wilds.


End file.
